Paternity
by awesomesen
Summary: Quite simply? Kamui meets his father. Post series, rated for language.
1. Kamui

* * *

x x x

* * *

"My _what_?" Kamui asked, sounding torn between incredulity and scorn.

Apparently, Imonoyama had either anticipated that reaction or just plain didn't care—his closed-eye smile didn't falter. "Your father."

In the middle of homeroom—more importantly, in the middle of an avid although somewhat embarrassing conversation with Keiichi regarding Kamui's favorite light novel series (the hero had just been betrayed by the woman he thought he had loved, and Kamui thought the plot twist was stupid and Keiichi thought it was dramatic and kinda cool)—anyway, they had been discussing that, Kamui whispering and Keiichi loudly, when their teacher had approached them and told Kamui that Imonoyama wanted to see Kamui in the office. She had looked worried, but Kamui had doubted it was anything to get worked up over. Of course...

"Yeah." Kamui gave Imonoyama his best scornful look—and he was pretty good at them. The chairman didn't seem to notice. "See. I don't _have_ a father. My mom was never even married."

"I'm well aware of your situation," Imonoyama said, taking on a rather informal posture, his chin resting in the palm of one hand. For the occasion, the two of them were alone in Imonoyama's enormous office, sitting on either side of a grand desk. "As am I aware of your mother's." He considered for a moment. "Apparently, before her death last year, your mother prepared a... package, of sorts, for your father. It was tied to the Togakushi Shrine—"

"Huh?" Kamui slumped in his chair. He was also very good at slumping.

"—Well, it's somewhat complicated, but as you know, you and... ah, Monou Fuuma," Imonoyama didn't seem entirely used to referring to him by a name other than _Kamui_. Kamui flinched, face falling slightly, at the reference. "...Were tied together in both your mother's and his father's wills, as well as that of Tokiko-san. Essentially, it was arranged that if one of you were to die, the other would inherit it all—the shrine, the collective assets and savings—of both of your parents and guardians."

"I _know_ that," he replied, not sounding quite as impudent as he would have liked. It was still a—sore subject. A painful one. A—he didn't know. He wasn't good at being poetic, at putting his feelings into words. Kamui was well into his second year of high school now, and doing fine—mostly fine—he had nightmares, and—stuff, but he was pretty much okay. He ate. He read manga. He let Sorata tease him (and he teased Arashi in turn). He ate lunch with Keiichi. He—he didn't think about the others. Subaru—Yuzuriha—Karen, Aoki... Fuuma... He... was coping. He was. Normally happy, even, normally—cheerful, cheerfullish, fine, except for moments... and that was to be expected. Right?

A—anyway, about a month ago, Imonoyama had approached Kamui for the first time, regarding the wills—he knew all this already. Imonoyama waited patiently, as if he could read Kamui's thoughts—or tell by his facial expression what he was thinking. At last, he continued. "Yes. Well, as it turns out, there was an additional... letter, shall we say, that your mother had prepared with the understanding that it would be sent out when the will was distributed—if it was to you and not Monou-san." A slight, awkward pause. "This letter was sent to your father. He contacted me this morning. He wants to see you."

"...Ah," Kamui said, lamely, not sure what to—think. Or how. Or why. Or—

Imonoyama explained more, trying to clarify things for Kamui. "Hasegawa-san—Hasegawa Arihiro, your father—apparently married into a fairly wealthy family. It would be... not very good for his reputation, were it to become known he had an illegitimate son. Apparently your mother's package was... conclusive, as I believe the purpose of his visit is to legally adopt you."

So it wasn't that Kamui's father _cared_, more that his reputation was at stake. "You've got it wrong," he said, suddenly realizing. "My last name's _Shirou_. My mom's was Magami. There's no 'Hasegawa' in there anywhere."

"It's a false name," Imonoyama said, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "I'm surprised you hadn't realized—your mother gave you a fake family name. Isn't that sort of thing protective in the magical community?"

"Is it?" Kamui would have to ask Sorata later. _Hasegawa Kamui_, he thought to himself, blanching. He decided to keep using Shirou. "So what's the big deal?" he asked, suddenly. "Hasegawa can just adopt me for his reputation, or whatever. Why's he gotta come here to do it?"

"You don't care about your father?" Imonoyama looked somewhat dramatically surprised, but Kamui had known Sorata for long enough that that sort of thing didn't phase him anymore.

"Of course I don't."

"...Yes, well." Imonoyama seemed put off at how bluntly Kamui had put it. "You are still a minor. I assume Hasegawa-san wants to see you to decide better... what to do with you. Whether or not you will be going with him to America."

Pause. Pause pause. "_My father's an American?_" That was either mildly cool or mildly disturbing.

"He lives and works there, but he's Japanese," Imonoyama said with a faint smile. "His wife is American, as are his children—your siblings."

Well, in retrospect, his name was Japanese. Kamui leant back in his chair, feeling weak from all the information at once. _Siblings_?_ American_? He still hadn't gotten used to _father_.

Imonoyama smiled again, standing from his desk. "I realize it's a lot to take in! Hasegawa-san will arrive in Japan tomorrow, so please get used to the idea by then."

* * *

x x x

* * *

America. _America. _Kamui tried to remember over dinner what he'd learned about it, besides from music and movies. There was New York. And California. And Hawaii. Then... there were the... cowboys... It was quickly becoming clear that geography was not a strong point in Kamui's education.

"You're kinda quiet," Sorata said, which was about as subtle as he could get. They lived in the same house—the—three of them, now, in mostly the same way. Keiichi came by for dinner sometimes, and Kamui had the suspicion (one that he very much did not want to confirm with evidence) that Sorata and Arashi were sharing a room now, but—it was pretty much the same. Better, even, since there was no more cloud of stress and worry hanging over the former Seals, no more threat of earthquakes. Better. Yeah. Even—without.

"What do you know about America?" Kamui asked him. Arashi, who had been steadily pretending to not care, raised her eyebrows at her dinner. Sorata thought for a second.

"There's Hawaii... and California..."

"No kidding," Kamui said sarcastically. He didn't bother mention that that had been about all he knew, either.

Sorata grinned at him. "So it was discovered by Europeans at the end of the fifteenth century, and colonization began soon after, although originally focused in the islands to the south. By the late eighteenth century England's colonies revolted and formed their own country after a war of independence—this became 'The United States of America,' and I could keep going. Isn't it _weird_ when I know stuff?" he added cheerfully.

"Sorata passed history this year," Arashi said, rather dryly, at Kamui's expression.

"Yeah, well," Kamui made a face.

"Why do you care? Are we going on vacation?" Sorata seemed to find this idea appealing, probably imaging hula dancers and fancy drinks with fruit wedges and paper umbrellas (not like Kamui hadn't as well, not like Kamui hadn't considered moving to Hawaii 'to be with his family').

"_You're_ not." Kamui hesitated and drank from his glass of milk, speaking quickly while raising it to his mouth. "_myfatherisAmerican_."

"Ah," Sorata said calmly. Kamui twitched. It was _no fair_. Sorata was always dramatic except for when there was actually something to react about, at which point he was this weird annoying _calm _thing. He had been banking on seeing Sorata freak out, Kamui realized. "Imonoyama told me yesterday," Sorata clarified with a rather annoying smile.

"What? What the hell!" Kamui snapped, slamming his glass back down on the table. "How come you know this before me?" He looked over at Arashi to gauge her reaction; her expression was uninterested. "You too?" Sorata had a big mouth, the asshole. Kamui had sort of looked forward to watching people that weren't him freak out about this.

Arashi gave him a rather dry look. "I just don't care."

"Oh, well," Kamui muttered. He turned his attention back to Sorata, who was trying not to laugh. "How the hell do you know this?"

"Like I said, Imonoyama told me." It would be really nice if he didn't say that in such a sing-song tone. "He came by yesterday, when you were out with Segawa. I guess he wanted to tell you here instead of during school, anyway, when you weren't home, Imonoyama asked me how to break the news to you." Sorata sparkled a bit. "I was touched."

"What did you tell him?" Kamui wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"To just up and say it," Sorata replied brightly. "You're not very good with subtle, and it's funnier this way."

"Asshole." Sadly, Kamui was now long past used to Sorata—enough that he didn't get angry or even very annoyed. Which sucked because he felt that Sorata deserved it.

"To the point," Arashi said, cutting between the two coolly, "this is rather important, isn't it?"

"Oh," Kamui replied, sitting back in his chair. "Yeah." They had long since gotten into the habit of sitting in the same places around the table each meal; Sorata and Arashi beside each-other on one side, and Kamui on the opposite—Yuzuriha next to him, when she—

—This way, though, by himself with the other two opposite him, Kamui felt suddenly hemmed in. "I guess," he added, lamely. He hadn't... really thought about it. Not _seriously_. Not _deeply_. Kamui—was so sure (had been so sure) that this was it, that his life—

"Don't guess," Arashi replied. "This isimportant."

"It's just a meeting," Kamui said, picking up his chopsticks again and poking at his dinner. All the same, he had lost his appetite. He settled for a bite of rice. "I mean, nothing's really going to happen. I've never had a dad before, so it doesn't matter now. No big deal, you know?" The weird part was his mother, he figured—he glanced up at the other two again. Arashi was as stoic as ever, but Sorata didn't change his expression quickly enough.

That's right. Sorata's parents abandoned him. And Kamui didn't know Arashi's history, but she had never mentioned hers, either. Maybe... not caring... was strange? "Hey, Sorata," he said, loudly. Maybe he was wrong. "Your parents are still alive, right? Why haven't you ever tried contacting them?"

Sorata looked uncomfortable, his grin skirting on grimace. "Dunno," he said, fairly casually. "I mean, I was three. That was... a long time ago. Maybe they have other kids... or died..." he looked uncomfortable again, glancing sideways at Arashi. "They've never tried contacting me, or Kouya, so, you know..."

That was much more depressing than reassuring. Kamui drank more milk to kill time, full of twitchy nervous energy all of a sudden. "Hasegawa," he said. "That's his name. Apparently he has kids, too. I mean, besides me."

"Heh," Sorata said, looking more amused. "Kamui the big brother. That's pretty cute." But he looked sideways at Arashi again—she wasn't looking at her food to eat as much as at her lap, lost in thought, and he seemed concerned.

"It's not like I'm gonna move to America," Kamui said. "I don't even speak English." That was, in fact, the class he skipped the most. "Besides, what do I need _siblings_ for? I—" _already have you idiots_, he kept himself from adding, but he flushed anyway at the thought and Sorata seemed to do that annoying mind-reading thing of his—even Arashi looked mildly amused or endeared.

Sorata stood up to reach across the table and pat Kamui on the head. "I'm sure we can manage some American guy. If he tries to kidnap you, we'll just beat him up."

* * *

x x x

* * *

As Kamui had guessed, Sorata _had_ moved into Arashi's room about two months ago. Arashi generally found it annoying because it was too difficult to find it anything else; not _everything_, but—but, when _sleep_ came into play, Sorata was a lousy bedmate. He tossed and turned, and when he did lie still it was only because he was also exceptionally clingy. He also talked in his sleep. It was annoying. Really annoying—Arashi kept meaning to mention it, but—for some reason— 

Well—people did tell her she was too impatient. So maybe she ought to—try to be patient. Or—well, maybe he'd grow out of it in time.

Although he had tried to hide it from Kamui, Sorata had been upset by his question, and although he hadn't said a word to Arashi (and she hadn't asked, or planned on asking), it was fairly clear to her. He had gotten into bed without tossing or turning or clinging at all—after half an hour of that, Arashi lying equally still on the other side, it was—she—it was bothering her. A little. Not—because she wanted him to do any of those things. Just because it was so different.

She sighed without thinking about it. This—this while thing—was strange. Not just now, not just _today_, not just this, but—_relationships_. This sort of... Arashi knew how to deal with people. What to say. How to say it. When to smile. And she knew how to deal with friends—usually, mostly, or—but this was... Why was it so annoying?

Arashi just couldn't deal with it patiently anymore. "Are you upset?"

She _knew _he was awake (if only because Arashi was convinced he couldn't be asleep _and_ perfectly still), so the pause before he answered was irritating. "I'm not _that_ obvious, am I?" He sounded whiny.

"You are." Somehow, she always forgot her point when talking to him.

"What gave it away?" He sounded more serious, a twinge of something she didn't like in his voice. She frowned into her pillow.

"You're usually..." Arashi cut herself, realizing that she couldn't say _more clingy _without it sounding like she'd noticed, or cared, or missed it.

Of course, one of Sorata's most annoying habits was his of figuring such things out anyway, of being smart at the very moments you didn't want him to be. Even facing the wrong direction and in the dark, Arashi imagined she could _feel _his grin. "I didn't know you cared so much!" he sing-songed, rolling over. At once Arashi was caught in the brunt of Sorata's maximum clingyness—she tried to elbow him in the stomach to get him to release her, but it was halfhearted and even he knew it. He laughed at her, right in her ear, and then harder when she on reflex tried to move her head away. "It's so cute when Arashi cares," he sighed. "Since you like this so much," he added, chuckling again, "I'll remember not to neglect it again."

"You're so annoying!" Arashi snapped, blushing.

"Yeah," he replied, clearly not caring, snuggling her some more. When he got bored with that (when Arashi stopped pretending she hated it), he relaxed, loosening his hold on her to a more comfortable level. "I'm not really upset," he said quietly. "I was just thinking. I really... don't remember my parents at all. What I do remember, I kinda think I only remember because... I've told myself so many times. Maybe they really do have more kids, and a nice house, and pets or something." He grinned into her hair. "I don't know. I miss the old geezers at Kouya more, but... What about you?"

"What about me?" Arashi echoed, glad she was still facing away from him. She didn't think about—such things. She tried not to. It wasn't—

"Anything." When she didn't at once reply, Sorata hummed to himself, one of his hands moving from Arashi's hip upwards—she batted it away, not really in the mood.

"My mother died a very, very long time ago," she said simply. She had to think for a few minutes before she could say anymore; Sorata waited patiently with no more grabs for her chest. "She was... kind. I don't remember her well enough to miss her. But I don't miss..." a few months ago, Sorata had gotten Arashi to tell him the whole story of her childhood; he let her trail off without a comment. "I do miss Ise," she said finally, willing to admit that.

He chuckled guiltily. He had decided not to return to Kouya after 1999 on his own; Arashi had made a similar decision regarding Ise, but it had been one made with slightly less choice. Kaede had made it clear that Arashi would always be welcome there, but—all the same. Some things were now impossible for her there.

"It would be weird if my parents contacted me," Sorata said after a quiet lull; he sounded tired. "I don't really feel any jealousy towards Kamui here." She agreed but didn't feel the need to say so.

When it became clear Sorata was dozing off, she shifted her position slightly—not—not to lean into him, just for comfort—and closed her eyes as well. Arashi wasn't tired at all, really. Even without... parents, without a need or desire for them... or perhaps it was because of that lack of desire—there was something Arashi didn't like about this, something that made her uncomfortable—something. An uneasy feeling.

_Something_.

Arashi sighed for a second time, sleepily, putting aside her other feelings. Sorata had long since fallen asleep; she shifted again, turning over awkwardly, aware and embarrassed by the fact she was only comfortable making such a move when he wasn't awake to notice it. There was no sense in being—pointlessly sentimental, of connecting things with no common source—it was only because tiredness made her stupid.

She moved closer to him, leaning into his chest and wrapping her arms around him in turn, eyes closed. There was nothing at all to that thought—it made no difference if she had parents or not, and it wouldn't change at all without him.

* * *

x x x

* * *

"You're missing afternoon classes?" Keiichi asked, looking worried and wide-eyed and leaning over Kamui's desk in an accidentally intimidating manner. Kamui told himself not to shrink backwards. 

"Yeah. I have a meeting to go to."

"Really?" Keiichi looked doubtful. "You seem to be getting into a lot of trouble lately," he said, pulling his chair—Keiichi sat directly in front of Kamui—up to Kamui's desk and sitting down backwards in it. "Is something wrong? Is it because you keep skipping English and Religion and I haven't been tutoring you well enough?"

"No." Kamui said. "It's a personal thing. I guess." Keiichi still looked doubtful, and Kamui began to say it involved his father—apparently—before remembering that Keiichi was an orphan, a recent orphan—a _real_ orphan, like Kamui had thought he had—and—well, anyway, wasn't that a little insensitive? Or?

He settled for looking away awkwardly. Keiichi looked confused. "Does it have to do with—uh, that stuff?"

"What stuff?" Kamui blinked up at Keiichi.

"The... uh, super-hero stuff," Keiichi said, making strange hand gestures Kamui was unable to interpret. But his face clouded over anyway, knowing what Keiichi was getting at. It had been impossible to _not_ tell Keiichi, in the end, about the earthquakes and everything else. Kamui had downplayed it and made Sorata and Arashi promise to do the same, but Keiichi had gotten the gist—although sometimes Kamui thought he still had sort of the wrong idea._Super-hero_ was about the farthest thing from what Kamui felt he was. Those were the people in books and on television. They never killed others merely by—existing. By failing. By failing _so much_.

"...Yeah," Kamui said. "Pretty much." _Not at all_. But Keiichi liked super-hero stories. Kamui didn't know that his friend would be so taken with talk of families.

"Is it..." Keiichi fumbled for a word. "_Bad_?" He looked momentarily scared, worried, but quickly hid it with a nervous smile.

"No." Kamui spoke a bit too loudly in his attempt to be firm. "That shit is over. _Forever_. This is just..." He wasn't sure. Maybe this hadn't been such a good lie; Keiichi didn't look at all reassured. "A side-story. Believe me. I'd know if anything else was going to happen. It isn't." There had been two survivors on the Dragons of Earth side, discounting Subaru—who no one on either side had seen in months, dead or alive—both of them (Kamui kept track, offhand, wandering accidentally to their work every so often) had been peaceful. The first had promised casually that he hadn't cared much to begin with—the second—the second, he seemed—like an honestly good person. A nice one. Even. Yuzuriha had—

—But Kamui still avoided him. Even so. Or perhaps _because _it was so.

"...If you say so," Keiichi said, smiling nervously more from Kamui's expression than his own worries. "Shirou can take care of himself, anyhow. But if there's anything I can do..."

"Don't worry," Kamui said. "It's just a meeting. Pretty boring."

* * *

x x x

* * *

Strangely enough, there were palm trees in the indoor office Imonoyama had chosen for the meeting. Not potted plants, but an actual _garden_, a domed glass roof letting in sunlight. Kamui even thought he saw a few birds flying around. In the rough center of the room was a desk and a small sitting area, looking utterly out of place (but somehow not totally surprising in a place like CLAMP School). Kamui had been purposefully arrived late, and was let into the office by Imonoyama's—henchmen, whatever the were, the one with the weird hair giving him a dark look before ushering him inside. 

Imonoyama, sitting behind the desk, was facing the doorway and stood when Kamui entered, smiling but perhaps a little impatiently. Kamui shoved his hands into his pockets. Before arriving, he had also made sure his uniform's shirt was rumpled and partially unbuttoned. For some reason, he had absolutely no desire to make a good first impression. The other man in the room stood as well from one of the chairs. The other man—Kamui's father.

Kamui moseyed his way over, actually dying of curiosity but unwilling to show that, either. Hasegawa turned to look at him critically, and Kamui was glad for the chance to look the man over, as well. His mother had been young, he knew that—only Arashi's age when he was born, not much past thirty when she died. Hasegawa was clearly older, graying slightly. Not totally ugly, Kamui supposed, in a business-man sort of way. It was his eyes that creeped Kamui out—sharp gray, but otherwise exactly the same as his own but for age. Hasegawa was short, shortish, taller than Kamui but shorter than Imonoyama—God, it was hereditary?—but there was something else about Hasegawa that Kamui couldn't place—something familiar, but not the same as Kamui. Like he was the father of someone else Kamui knew. Or something.

"Kamui-kun," Hasegawa said, having concluding his examination before Kamui. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Kamui imagined he heard a slight hesitation between a and pleasure. The man spoke with an American accent, which Kamui resented ever so slightly, irrationally.

He shrugged in reply. "Same, I guess." If he'd thought of his father at all in the past year and a half, Kamui had sort of assumed that he would have been in the magical industry as well, or special, or different in some way. Not a shortish business man with a critical expression. "So how'd you and my mom meet?"

"Now now!" Imonoyama said with slightly strained cheerfulness before Hasegawa could reply or even shift his facial expression from _neutral _into _glare_. "I know this meeting is stressful, but there is some business to attend to..."

"The adopt-the-bastard-child thing?" Kamui asked innocently. Imonoyama gave him a slightly pleading look, unwilling to break character as the responsible guardian-and-school-chairman figure and call him on it directly. Hasegawa's eyebrows twitched. This was pretty easy. "I mean, he can do whatever. I don't care. Why do I have to be here for this?"

"Where would you be otherwise?" Hasegawa asked, soundingly slightly curt but polite.

Kamui was taken slightly by surprise, and even discomfort, to be asked a question directly. "I—home. I have a house." For some reason, he looked to Imonoyama as he said so, as if checking to see if the man would correct him.

"You live alone?" Again, Hasegawa sounded interested, and polite. Like he cared. Or something.

"No. So—I live with two friends. Arisugawa Sorata and Kishuu Arashi. They're annoying, but in two different ways." That came out without Kamui planning on it, and he flushed slightly, feeling guilty. He complained about them, to them and to others, but not to strangers. Because strangers—"They're okay. I mean, you know, even though."—Strangers didn't really get that as annoying as they were... with the others dead, they were all...

"How old are they?" Hasegawa asked, one of his eyebrows quirked.

"Uh." That was a kinda weird question, wasn't it? "Sorata just turned eighteen a couple weeks ago, but Arashi's still seventeen. Her birthday's not 'til December." Kamui knew he was rambling, but was somehow powerless to prevent it. He felt his put-on aggression slipping away; he hadn't expected his 'father' to care about those people, or really ask any personal questions at all.

"It's unusual for three young people to live together without adult supervision, isn't it?" Hasegawa asked after a long silence (at least it seemed so to Kamui).

Imonoyama coughed and jumped in: "Yes, well, circumstances as they are—Arisugawa-san and Kishuu-san were both Seals in the conflict of last year—age aside, they're both very responsible and have looked after Kamui well."

"They're not from Tokyo either?" Now Kamui was convinced Hasegawa was just asking questions randomly.

"Sorata's from Kouya, and Arashi's from Ise," he said, uneasy. Why the hell did that even matter? Hasegawa was again silent for an uncomfortably long time.

"I'd like to meet them," he said.

"Huh? Why the hell would you want to do that?" Kamui asked before he could stop himself.

Imonoyama smiled weakly. "I have a similar question," he said. "This matter is in regards to your family and legal issues, isn't it?"

Hasegawa nodded curtly, looking at neither of them. "Yes, of course," he said, looking into the distance. "But I wish to know more about Kamui-kun before committing myself to adopting him formally. If I do so, he'll be subject to inheritance and other laws; I have no desire to adopt the boy if I cannot find him agreeable, DNA tests or no. I find that the best way to learn about someone," he added, "is to speak to their friends."

"Great," Kamui said quickly. "Stop by around seven for dinner." That would give him long enough to prep and threaten Sorata and Arashi. "They're still in class now anyway."

"Third years have a half day today," Imonoyama said.

"All the same," Kamui said, giving Imonoyama a dangerous smile.

The chairman didn't appear to notice. "I'm sure Kamui would be happy to bring you to his home immediately," Imonoyama said to Hasegawa.

* * *

x x x

* * *


	2. Arashi

* * *

x x x

* * *

Sorata was laughing. "You can say what you want," he said brightly. "I woke up before you did."

Arashi was not so amused. They had arrived home from school half an hour ago, and at once Sorata had abandoned the day's restraint and began teasing her about her position when he had woken up that morning—"Sure, you complain a lot, but you seemed pretty comfortable all wrapped—"

"Would you _shut up?_" He did, grinning. It wasn't much of a victory. Although in the same year of school, Sorata and Arashi were in different classes. That and a tiny sense of restraint on Sorata's part meant that he usually left her alone during the actual school day (and she was usually too tired in the mornings before school to tolerate any sort of teasing), but the moment school let out, it was a fair game again.

"I'm gonna make some tea," Sorata said suddenly. Arashi had decided to do her homework immediately after coming home; he had been pretending to join her. "Want some?"

"Alright," she replied, not paying a lot of attention anymore. She had only gotten a B on her last maths test; that just wasn't acceptable.

"Maybe I'll make a snack, too," Sorata said, cheerfully adding time onto his trip into the kitchen and away from his homework. He was probably running through a list of baked goods in his head. Arashi let him go without comment, looking for _x _in the equation she was working on. She'd really been slacking in maths lately—it was one of her better subjects, but that wasn't an excuse, especially since her test scores were suffering because of it...

—The screen door slammed open as Kamui loudly returned home. The dining room was really just one end of the living room—which was really just the house's main room. Arashi glanced over at him briefly, not terribly perturbed by his entrance. "Welcome back," she said.

He didn't bother return the ritual greeting: "Hasegawa's on his way, too, but I got ahead of him." Hase... it took Arashi only a moment to remember that was Kamui's father's name. She looked back over at him. Kamui looked... distressed? Slightly out of breath? She almost smiled. Had she a proper sense of humor, Arashi probably would have laughed at him instead.

"Kind of you to rush ahead to warn us," she remarked, turning back to her homework.

Sorata emerged from the kitchen with a mixing bowl in hand. "Warn us about what?"

Kamui turned on him. "Hasegawa!" he said, urgently. "He's on his way here! Like, within a couple of seconds!"

"...Arashi's right," Sorata said, laughing at Kamui. "Cute of you to care." She had said no such thing, but she let it slide.

Kamui looked affronted. "You guys don't _get it! _He's going to show up here for dinner! And—talk to you guys. And stuff."

"Dinner?" Sorata looked over his shoulder into the kitchen as if to check what they had stocked. "Well, it's rude when there's a guest, but I guess there's time for me to run out shopping..."

"You guys are totally missing the—" Hasegawa appeared behind Kamui in the doorway, and Kamui cut himself off. His back to his father, Hasegawa didn't see the expression of dismay—and disgust—that crossed his face. "Welcome, please make yourself at home," Kamui muttered in the man's direction, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes. Hasegawa followed suit—although without kicking off his own shoes, which looked rather expensive.

"Hello!" Sorata said brightly, waving the arm that wasn't holding the mixing bowl in a friendly sort of way. "I'm Arisugawa Sorata, but Sora-chan is just fine! It's really a pleasure to meet you, Kamui-Papa." Someday, Arashi decided to ask him why he felt the need to talk like a young girl when introducing himself to others. As if sensing her cynical thoughts—she wouldn't put it entirely past him—Sorata turned and gestured expansively at her, sparkling a bit. "This beauty here is Kishuu Arashi, who I happen to be dating so please don't admire her too much!" Kamui smirked; Arashi flushed.

Hasegawa looked singularly unimpressed with Sorata, giving him only a brief, cursory glance-over before turning his attention to Arashi. She was used to a certain amount of second glances, as vain as that made her seem; men and even other women had been looking at her, looking her over, for three years now. It didn't generally bother her or warrant her attention; lately the only time she cared was when S—well. But Hasegawa's gaze focused on her for a few seconds too long. Perhaps it was because of his relation to Kamui, because Arashi knew the man was married on top of that—she refused to react visibly, but—Sorata picked up on it too and shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat, and Hasegawa glanced away. It only lasted a moment.

Kamui didn't notice it at all. "So, you've met them," he said loudly, effectively breaking the awkwardness. "Your mission is complete, right?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hasegawa said. Arashi imagined she saw him do that—glance, at her, again. Why should it matter? But it made her more uncomfortable than she wanted to admit.

"Likewise," Sorata said, with somewhat less cheer than before. "So, uh, Hasegawa-san! I hear you're staying for dinner?"

"Yes, that's correct." Hasegawa stepped forward into the dining room area, his posture confident. He didn't seem to notice the discomfort of the other three—or care. Kamui also didn't seem to notice, but that was more normal for him. "I assume," Hasegawa continued, "as you three live with no adult presence, your meals are... rather simple." It sounded like it should have been phrased like a question but wasn't; American rudeness, Arashi decided, even though the man was Japanese.

"Actually, I'm a totally awesome cook," Sorata said. "Arashi, too! Even Kamui doesn't usually burn things into a completely indistinguishable blackness."

"Oh, shut up! I haven't done anything like that in like a year!" Kamui snapped.

Sorata gave him a thumbs up. "You've truly improved with time. But anyway," he said, directing himself to Hasegawa, "Believe me, we three can take care of ourselves. More than." He didn't manage to sound threatening or protective in saying it, just his normal idiot cheerfulness, but Arashi wanted to imagine that had been his intention. Hasegawa... unnerved her. She didn't know exactly why.

"—Plus," Sorata was adding, "I'm not only the oldest, but I turned eighteen earlier this month. That's the age of adulthood in America, isn't it? So," he said, nodding a bit to himself, "it's a bit like I'm the parent here, isn't it?" Nod, nod. He clearly thought he was onto something.

Hasegawa and Kamui shared identical looks of exasperation, which was something Arashi hadn't realized was hereditary; to her surprise, however, after a moment Hasegawa's frown faded and he seemed to smile slightly. "Well then, Arisugawa, I shall trust you for the evening."

"Of course! I'm extremely trustworthy." Maybe Arashi had just imagined that Sorata had been bothered by Hasegawa; he was all smiles now. "I was just making some cream puffs—I'm world class at them I'll have you know, mister—as a snack, but I'll run out and buy dinner stuff after that, if I can trust you alone with Kamui and Arashi."

"I, too, am extremely trustworthy," Hasegawa said smoothly; Sorata blinked at him, and then burst out grinning.

* * *

x x x

* * *

"He doesn't seem so bad," Sorata said a little while later. Arashi had abandoned her homework and followed him into the kitchen, leaving Kamui and his father alone. Her earlier hopes—that Sorata had also picked up on the tension—seemed to have been unfounded. She frowned. "Seriously," Sorata added, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I don't like him," she said, frowning at nothing in particular. "He seems... shifty."

"Nah," Sorata bent to look into the oven; he lowered his voice to a near whisper as he did so. "Maybe a little stiff, but I dunno. He kinda reminds me—I dunno. A little bit of Kamui, but also of you."

"Me?" Arashi felt slightly offended. She crossed her arms and waited; as soon as Sorata straightened up again he smiled apologetically.

"I dunno. The way he says stuff without changing his face, I guess. Kamui's no good at that, but you are." Sorata shrugged. "I'm not saying he's going to be my best friend or anything, but I just don't think he's a bad guy, Hasegawa."

"You didn't—" Arashi shut her mouth and exhaled through her nose, suddenly annoyed. Sorata was usually a good judge of character, but in this case—"You didn't see. Earlier, he—looked at me strangely." She flushed a bit, defensive of how she knew that sounded; stupid, really, that she should care about such things.

"Eh?" For a moment Sorata looked like he couldn't decide whether or not to laugh, then he grew more serious, moving closer to her. "What do you mean?"

Arashi spoke through gritted teeth. "I don't know. I don't usually care, either, but something—" She couldn't say it. Even if she knew what had bothered her so much about it, to say it aloud, to him, would be like an admission of weakness. That she had let it get to her.

"I didn't notice anything..." He sounded worried rather than doubtful. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," Arashi said, with no small amount of impatience. It had bothered her, but not nearly enough to warrant the look he was now giving her. "It was—strange, that's all. I just don't think he should be..."

"Trusted?" Sorata looked towards the dining room. Kamui had been left to entertain his father alone, but there didn't seem to be any conversation taking place. One of them would have to step in eventually, if only out of politeness. "I dunno. I mean, when you think about it, he never _had_to come here. Sure it's probably bad for his reputation to have a kid no one knows about, but it's not like that can't be explained, you know? 'I never knew, if I had known I woulda—' or something. Hasegawa could have just pretended he had no idea about Kamui. Kamui would never have cared to look into it, so it probably would have worked out fine."

"So then why would he go through all this trouble?" What Sorata saw as a sign of compassion and generosity, Arashi found slightly suspicious. "He finds out and immediately flies to Japan to meet his son, and announces even before that that he intends to adopt Kamui. There must be more to it than just paternal... affection."

"Maybe he's a occult nut," Sorata said, snickering. "If you think about it, Kamui's pretty much the top of the celebrity pile, magically." It was a joke, but Arashi didn't find it at all appealing. Thinking about—any of that, all of that, her involvement, Kamui's, Sorata's—she couldn't. She was surprised Sorata could.

He looked apologetic when her face clouded over; before she could react he moved forward and bent over, kissing her and quickly pulling away before she could respond or decide how to. "Sorry," he said. Arashi looked away from him, flushing slightly from the suddenness.

"No," she said automatically. Sorata grinned at her and checked on his baking again, looking triumphant after a moment of examining and pulling on oven mitts to take them out.

"Do me a favor and check on the other two?" he asked her, busying himself with plates and cooling. "It would probably be bad if Kamui killed his father on the day of their reunion."

* * *

x x x

* * *

Actually, Kamui hadn't said a word to Hasegawa since Sorata and Arashi had left the room. He hadn't looked much at him, either. In fact, Kamui had flopped down on the couch in the best display of teenage sulking he could manage, making sure to leave no room for Hasegawa to sit down. Then he had pretended to read manga (through Aoki—before he had—anyway, since he had worked for_Asuka_, they always had issues lying around the house, and still got a subscription). Even though it was shoujo and not terribly interesting shoujo at that, Kamui pretended to be engrossed.

The most annoying part was that Hasegawa didn't seem to care in the slightest. He simply sat down in one of the living room's two armchairs, folded his hands in his lap, and watched Kamui patiently.

...He was really starting to piss Kamui off.

Nevertheless, he stubbornly continued reading—whatever the hell he was reading, some manga with a lot of guys that looked the same and one girl—until Arashi entered the room. He was amused to note that she didn't say anything, either, at least not at first; she glared at him until he moved on the couch, sitting up, clearing room for her to sit down—which she did, prissily.

"Hasegawa-san," she said, giving Kamui a pointed look—he wondered for a second if she was trying to be cute and refer to him by that name, but she followed it up with: "You must be tired from your travel here." Okay, not him, then. With a grin, tossing the manga aside, Kamui realized Arashi didn't like Hasegawa any more than he did.

"Not especially," the man replied. "I travel between Japan and the States often."

"What does Hasegawa-san do for a living?" Arashi asked, pleasantly. She was actually pretty good at this polite conversation stuff, Kamui noted. Apparently she could hide how annoying she was when she felt like it (of course, he also noticed, she never did around them, which was strangely endearing).

Hasegawa looked at her for a moment with no easily discernible expression. Then he smiled faintly, his posture relaxing somewhat. "I'm sure that you don't really care about trade and business, Arashi-chan," he said. Arashi twitched slightly at the informality—or perhaps the name itself. If there was ever a girl that didn't lend herself to cute nicknames, it was, Kamui figured, Arashi.

"I'm interested, I assure you," she replied calmly.

"I'd rather hear about you." Hasegawa's smile seemed to broaden, and Arashi seemed to lean backwards a bit into the couch.

"I'm not sure that's appropriate," she said, very primly. "You should be attempting to get to know your son, not myself." She shot Kamui a dirty look, as if it was his fault his father was turning out to be a creepy old pervert. Kamui did feel sort of bad for her, but not in a meaningful enough way to do anything.

"Well, I find that would be the ideal, but Kamui-kun seems to be shy," Hasegawa said, his tone and facial expression not changing. "Perhaps if I speak to his friends, he'll feel more comfortable around me."

Kamui wondered, sulking a bit, if Hasegawa thought he was six instead of sixteen. "I'm not talking to you because I don't like you," he snapped, "not because I'm _shy_."

"Then perhaps Arashi-chan's good example will make you more sociable," Hasegawa replied smoothly. What the hell was up with this man? Nothing seemed to phase him, and Kamui was sure that he was way more interested in Arashi than he was in Kamui, no matter what his annoying smooth reply was. But that was really transparent of the perv—wasn't that kinda suspicious? And for that matter, if all the guy had wanted to do was pick up high school students, or try, why hadn't he just done that instead of making a big deal out of adopting Kamui? Unless Kamui really was being unsociable and this was his retarded idea of a lesson, or something.

"I doubt it," he said, grinning at Hasegawa. "But you get to know her all you want. I'm going to get a drink." He did feel sorry for Arashi, honestly, which wasn't so weird (even if he didn't like to admit it aloud, he_did _like her). But he sure as hell wasn't going to step into this. This sort of thing was the job of a boyfriend, and anyway, Sorata was still in the kitchen.

He might have imagined it, but he thought Arashi shot him a grateful look when he headed to go do that.

* * *

x x x

* * *

"So," Hasegawa said to Arashi when they were alone, shifting in his chair and leaning forward slightly: "How is Saeko?"

* * *

x x x

* * *


	3. Reputation

_sorry for the bit of a delay between chapters; this one caused me a lot of problems, because there were certain things I needed to establish and it was hard as all hell to do that in a way that didn't read like... well, it's exposition, but I was trying for "exposition in story form," not "Parron listing shit." I have doubts that I managed it, but in any case it's done._

* * *

x x x

* * *

"So," Hasegawa said to Arashi when they were alone, shifting in his chair and leaning forward slightly: "How is Saeko?"

He watched carefully. She started to frown, then didn't, and answered smoothly, with no reluctance and slight confusion in her voice. "I don't... know anyone by that name."

"My apologies," he replied.

* * *

x x x

* * *

For all his good intention, Kamui had forgotten completely that he had gone to fetch Sorata the moment he had left the living room; instead, he was ranting in a near whisper, so that Hasegawa wouldn't hear. Arashi had been not only deserted, but forgotten.

"—I don't know, he just pisses me off," Kamui was saying. "He was treating me like I was a little kid or something. Blah blah 'manners' and crap."

Sorata looked more amused than sympathetic, cleaning the dishes and pan from his earlier cooking, the small cake he had made cooling in the refrigerator. "Because it's not like you ever act that way," he said. Kamui glared at him.

"That's not the point. I could be nice if I wanted to and if he was the sort of person that deserves it, but he doesn't, so I just don't feel like putting in the effort," Kamui explained, rather loftily.

"Isn't he your dad? Isn't that kinda, uh, the sort of person that you're supposed to be polite to in general?" Sorata didn't seem sure; that or he was reluctant to oppose Kamui directly. "Arashi thinks the same as you, but I still don't think he's that bad, somehow."

"Well, you're an idiot." Kamui jumped up to sit on one of the empty countertops. "So I figure, let Arashi deal with him. She's good at that fake polite stuff, and it'll be funny to see if she does lose her temper with him."

"I kinda doubt it," Sorata said sagely, having great, blinding faith in Arashi as a rule. "Why would she, anyway?"

"I dunno. She usually does." Kamui had forgotten completely his reason for going to the kitchen.

"What do you have against Hasegawa, by the way? Besides that he wants you to be polite," Sorata added, grinning.

"I don't know." It was with only the greatest reluctance that Kamui admitted it. "It's just, he's nosy as all hell and creepy as all hell, and you can't say he isn't or else you're being retarded. And he shows up the day after I find out he exists, like, what the hell do I need a dad for anyway? And for _that _matter, I never had one before and turned out just fine." Fine-ish. Fine enough, anyway, for the points of this discussion to count.

Sorata shrugged. "I don't know either." When Kamui shot him a surprised look, he laughed at him. "I mean it. Gramps back on Kouya is sort of like family, I guess, but I don't have any parents, either, so how would I know why you need a father? Especially," he added as a cheerful aside, "since you have such good role-models as myself already."

Kamui ignored the second part of that. "If you agree, then why the hell do you keep saying he's such a nice guy?"

"I'm saying I agree that you probably don't need him, not that I agree he's the greatest evil the earth has ever known," Sorata said, the relative wisdom of his words offset with the hand gestures he used to illustrate them.

"I didn't say _that_," Kamui muttered. He glared at his feet for a moment before hopping down again from the countertop. "By the way, Hasegawa's also a creepy old perv, Arashi wanted me to tell you."

"That's not quite what I said," Arashi replied cooly, entering the kitchen. "Would you please go talk to him?" The 'please' seemed rather insincere.

"Me? You wish," Kamui said, and then politely stared at the opposite wall so that Sorata could fret over her as mushily as he wanted.

Arashi apparently was in no mood for fretting, however, and replied impatiently barely a moment later. "He's _your _father. I shouldn't be the one entertaining him."

"Why not? He likes you better than me." Kamui pretended not to notice that the other two were frowning at him now. "Or rather, since we all know now that he's a useless perv, why bother? Even if he wasn't I don't want to be adopted." This all made perfect sense to Kamui, who was in a fairly grumpy mood, but he still had the vague sense that his logic was somehow off.

"Well, he's still our guest," Sorata said hopefully, in the minority for not hating Hasegawa and looking uncomfortable because of it. "You two have to at least deal with him through dinner, and by the way, you're kidding about the pervert thing, right?" Sorata wasn't in general bad tempered or easily annoyed—Kamui had only seen him so much as frustrated once, ever—and the prospect of getting worked up and angry over Hasegawa was probably to him a daunting one.

Arashi's mouth thinned. "He has shown more interest in me than Kamui," she said. "Do either of you know anyone named Saeko?"

"No," the reply was at once. After a moment, Kamui added, "I think there's a Saeko in my year, different class." He sincerely doubted this was really at all relevant, even as he said it.

"Hmm." Arashi didn't look like she planned on explaining or elaborating, frowning in a thoughtful sort of way.

Sorata looked worried, then cleared his throat. "So, uh, how long are we planning on leaving Hasegawa on his own?" Shooting Kamui a pointed look as he said it.

Kamui rolled his eyes. "_Fine_," he said, turning away to look at the wall just in time to not see Sorata quickly leaning over and kissing Arashi (still frowning) before making his own way to the living room. Arashi flushed and glared at his back, and then at Kamui when he grinned at her discomfort.

"I'll start dinner," she said, trying not to look like she was blushing. Kamui was uncomfortable with (not) seeing such a public display of affection as well; Sorata usually was pretty discrete even if he didn't exactly hide it. But Arashi flustered was a rare and amusing sight. That, coupled with his lack of desire to see and talk to Hasegawa again, made Kamui's walk to the living room behind Sorata very reluctant indeed.

* * *

x x x

* * *

"Oh, come on," Sorata said as soon as Hasegawa had greeted him. If he had been bothered by the talk in the kitchen, he wasn't showing it now. Kamui doubted he had been. "If you're calling the other two by their first names, I don't wanna be left out." He had sat on the couch, and Kamui, still putting on a show of sulking, sat at the other end of it.

"Very well then, Sorata-kun," Hasegawa said, smiling faintly. Come to think of it, that was a little weird, that Hasegawa had been calling him Kamui-kun and Arashi Arashi-chan but had stuck to formalities with Sorata. Whether it was weird because Hasegawa was a perv or because it was _Sorata _being treated formally, Kamui didn't know. It was amazing Sorata found none of this suspicious.

Sorata had asked Hasegawa about living in America, seeming sincerely interested. Hasegawa told him about the city in California where he lived, then about his American wife and children. Kamui had been busy wondering why Sorata was able to get Hasegawa to answer personal questions (he had decided it was because Sorata wasn't very good looking and Hasegawa had no pervy interests in him—and also wasn't his father), but halfway through this description Kamui realized with a pang that Hasegawa was referring to his siblings. And that he _had _siblings.

"—And Trudy has just started third grade." Hasegawa finished. Sorata seemed sincerely interested, which was still somehow weird to Kamui.

"If you don't mind me asking," Sorata said, "do any of them have magical ability?"

Hasegawa seemed amused. "No. My wife has none, either." He answered Sorata's next question before it was even asked. "I know of the occult; I know all about the reasons for the earthquakes in Tokyo last year."

"You found out when you found out about Kamui?" Sorata asked. Kamui was now listening intently; none of these questions had occurred to him before, logical as they were—he had been too busy sulking.

"Not exactly." Hasegawa was silent, but he looked thoughtful, as if he planned on answering when he found the words. At last he did. "I discovered the _cause _of the earthquakes when I received Magami's letter," he said, Kamui blanching at the formal way that his mother was referred to, "but I've known of the occult all my life."

"I thought so!" Sorata said, triumphant. "I thought, there's no way Kamui comes from a normal family, both his parents gotta be pretty serious magic. There aren't really a ton of magical families, though. Magami is one of the most renowned, but Sumeragi is probably next. I wondered if maybe his dad was from there, but that didn't work out."

"You looked into this?" Kamui asked him, blinking.

Sorata looked confused. "Yeah, of course. Ages ago."

"Why?"

"Curiosity?" Sorata didn't seem to have given thought as to why. "I dunno, aren't you curious? It's pretty unlikely that you could be born from normal people, I mean, destiny aside, some things are just impossible. People from magical families are way more likely to have stronger children, and 'Kamui's' parents should be extra so, you know?"

"What about you and Arashi and everyone else?" Kamui asked. For all his powers, he had never really done much research into how magic worked. When he was younger, he hadn't cared, just thought it was cool. And now—now, after everything—Well, what was the point?

"Well, it's a little different with the end of the world and stuff, you know, way more arranged." Hasegawa was listening intently, but he had been forgotten. Sorata continued seriously; he was stupid about most things, but magic he was good with. "But magic is pretty rare when it springs up out of nowhere. If you look at it, most of us have magic in our families. Aoki-san's clan is pretty well known, Yuzuriha-chan's family all had inugami, and Subaru-san of course. It's harder with me and Arashi and Karen-san since we don't have families to trace, but I wouldn't be surprised if magic was in them somewhere. But in the end, the six of us, we're nothing on you. I mean, I'm good with magic because I've spent almost all my life learning it, but I'm really not much stronger than some random guy on the street. Who also knew magic. If we fought, I mean. Aside from the fact that I was born for you and got extra training because of it, I'm not much more powerful than anyone else."

This didn't make a ton of sense to Kamui. "So whether or not you have special parents doesn't matter for you, just me?"

"Pretty much." Sorata grinned. "My family might have magic in them somewhere, probably they do actually, but the 'Seal' could have been anyone, there's nothing saying it had to be me born on this-and-that day in this-and-that place. But you were 'Kamui' from the moment your mother got pregnant." His eyes twitched towards Hasegawa at that, suddenly remembering the man's presence. Kamui, however, was remembering something else—something Tokiko had told him his mother had said, long ago: _I will bear the child of a man_.

"My family has magic, yes," Hasegawa said calmly, to the unasked question. "It's a passive magic. I have no special powers myself, nor does anyone in my family. But if you trace us, I'm related to nearly every magical family in Japan. The Sumeragi included."

"Seriously?" Sorata looked impressed.

"Not myself directly." Hasegawa looked thoughtful. "I believe my great-grandfather's nephew married into the family. Our power," he added, "is to amplify other powers."

Sorata looked more impressed, and understanding, but Kamui didn't get it. "What?"

"Using the example of the Sumeragi Clan," Hasegawa said, looking over at Kamui, "my relative married a woman in the family. She had magical ability and was an onmyouji as such. Her child with my relative, however, had twice her ability."

"Yeah, I still don't get it." Kamui looked to Sorata for help.

Sorata thought about it for a minute. "Okay, so, say you have a woman and she's level three, and she has a kid with Hasegawa-san and that kid is then level six. The kid inherits all his mom's powers, but he's stronger, because his father's magic levels him up before he's born. Like in a video game." Sorata made hand gestures. "So what you got was your mom's power, but Hasegawa's blood basically gave you a power-up on top of that."

"And so I was born 'Kamui' instead of a normal kid?"

"No, you were 'Kamui' all along." Sorata waved his hand, and Kamui rolled his eyes. But he was starting to get it, at least the idea. "So if you had kids with a normal woman with no powers, would they inherit your ability?" Sorata was asking Hasegawa.

"My sons might. It carries in the male line. But they would have no active powers of their own, and unless they had children with women with active powers, their own children would not receive the... power up."

"Right, right." Sorata nodded. "You must be pretty popular in the magical community," he added, grinning.

"I was approached by Magami for that reason," Hasegawa replied. Because his blood would make Kamui stronger than he would have otherwise been, Kamui thought. He understood and it made sense, but it was weird, too, and sort of creepy.

"So I guess you'd need to be careful with sex," Sorata said.

"No more careful than any other man." It was a delicate subject, but they appeared to be discussing it scientifically. Or. Whatever. Maybe not science. "My powers only would activate if the woman had powers of her own, passive or active, and it isn't an active effort on my part. It's more that the ability is in my family's DNA. The worry is in impregnating a woman, not in passing to her my powers."

"Did you know about me?" Kamui asked suddenly. "You said my mom went to you. And you know all this shit about magic, and so you were obviously trying to knock her up."

"I didn't know you would be... you," Hasegawa said. "'Kamui.' But arrangements such as that are not unknown. Preferably, everyone wants to marry and have children the normal way, however."

"But sometimes," Sorata added, addressing Kamui slightly as he knew Kamui wasn't as knowledgeable about this sort of thing, "a heir is needed. Like, with Subaru-san, he was just born the normal way in his family. He probably just turned out to have a lot of power, more than any of his cousins, and was made the heir of his family like that."

"Or because he was a Seal," Kamui pointed out.

"Yeah, well," Sorata waved his hand again. "Come on, it's an example. But anyway, say that Subaru-san was never born, and none of his cousins had any powers, and the old lady in charge of the family was getting older. Then they might say after putting it off for as long as they could, 'well, we need a new clan head.'"

"So they send a girl over to Hasegawa to get her knocked up." Kamui got it now.

"Or one of my brothers, or cousins," Hasegawa said mildly. "It's usually more delicately managed than how you phrased it. A marriage is arranged, or if that is impossible, a child is conceived. And he or she will have more power than he or she would have normally."

"And the Sumeragi family doesn't die out," Sorata finished cheerfully. Kamui, while filled with understanding, was sort of—he didn't even know, disgusted, almost, uneasy about the whole thing. It made _sense _but it also... didn't. Or he didn't want it to.

"So you knew you had a kid with my mom," Kamui said; Hasegawa nodded curtly. "Do you have any other bastards? How does that work?"

"The child is considered a full member of their mother's family. In the modern world there are more complications; parental rights and so forth, but generally those in my family do not see the children they father—it is considered somewhat rude and distasteful to the children and their families. Simply put, I would not be considered your father in most circumstances."

"So why did you come to see me?"

"Curiosity," Hasegawa replied simply. "And the news that you have no family remaining."

"Right, so what?" Kamui frowned. He had sort of forgotten why he was annoyed in the discussion, which was interesting if disturbing, but he was reminded again. "You've never met me, why the hell would you want to adopt me? And if it's rude and distasteful in your family, then that's an extra why?"

"Curiosity." Hasegawa's gaze didn't waver. "I was just out of college when your mother approached me. You are the first and only child I was... asked to father, and you turned out to be at the center of the End of the World."

"There's gotta be more to it than that," Kamui snapped, a little stung. He didn't want to be—known for that. He couldn't even think about it yet, still, and the idea of people looking for him because he was some sort of _famous _was—

"There isn't." Hasegawa smiled slightly. "I realize it's a faint motivation, but it is the only one I have to offer. I've told my wife an edited version of events—without the magical details—and she's agreed to adopt you."

"I don't want to be adopted by you!" Kamui stood up from the couch. "I don't need or want you, and I don't plan on living Japan to go stay with—people!"

"You won't have to." Hasegawa seemed rather unaffected by Kamui's outburst. "Having living family will help you financially and legally, but if you wish to continue your education here, I don't see why you couldn't. And when you're finished with college, as an adult you may choose where you wanted to live on your own. All an adoption will give you is backup support."

"So... then why?" Kamui couldn't quite manage to keep up with his annoyance, confused.

"I wanted to meet you out of curiosity. And I _do _have a reputation to uphold. I work in an entirely non-magical business that would frown upon illegitimate children. CLAMP School is a boarding school so I can safely leave you to attend here, but I wanted to check on your conditions here. Since everything seems in order, I wouldn't have to worry about being accused of leaving you in a hostile environment. As for why I am adopting you, it is reputation entirely."

"Because you have one to maintain, or because I add to it?" Kamui asked. He wasn't sure where the idea had come from, but it seemed to fit. "'The Hasegawa family, amplifying the magic of your bastards, and did we ever mention _Kamui_ is one?'"

Hasegawa didn't bother answering or denying it—just smiled.

* * *

x x x


End file.
